Lila
Three months later.
Graduation was over.
That still felt strange to say.
For years, high school had seemed like my entire world. Those hallways had decided who was popular, who was weird, who belonged at which lunch table, and, at least in my head, who mattered. Then one afternoon they handed us diplomas, our parents took approximately four thousand pictures, and suddenly none of those rules meant anything anymore.
I was going to college in the fall.
For writing.
Even typing those words still gave me a little thrill.
Mom had needed a minute when I told her. Her first reaction had been to ask what kind of job I could get with that degree, and I’d watched her physically stop herself.
Then she’d taken a breath and asked, “Is this what you really want?”
I’d said yes.
She’d smil
